


Odd arrangements

by Halebop



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (bc hannibal), (which you know... is canon will), Anal Sex, Blood As Lube, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Everything, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dark Will Graham, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24391570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halebop/pseuds/Halebop
Summary: - You think tying up my husband is the perfect gift for me ? I'm afraid, I can do that pretty often myself.Will's tone was polite, pleasing, even charming, but his eyes had yet to smile. The other really didn't seem to care, for he smiled brightly enough for two.- Oh, but this is not any tied up husband ! It's a present !- Again, Marcel, I'm not refusing your gift, I'm flattered by the troubles you no doubt went through, honestly, I'm just wondering why I must walk in the night to an unlicensed warehouse to have him when he's in my bed most nights.A sadistic little light gleamed in Friedman's eyes.- Because this is an abandoned warehouse, my good friend, he said in a low voice.He took a foldable knife from his breast pocket and offered it to Will.- Whatever happens here cannot be traced to anyone... ever.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	Odd arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> Originally for my Novenkink challenge, but I didn't finish it in time. It was for the theme "Blood and Gore", which seemed suited for these two...

Will carefully pushed the door. On the other side was an immense cubical room, completely bare, exposing its cement and rough floor to the eyes. At the centre of it, a man in a navy-blue suit stood, a bright lamp like a halo over his head, and next to him, tied to a chair, Hannibal Lecter.

\- Good morning, Marcel, Will greeted, walking deliberately slowly toward the man. I didn't know what to expect from your letter.

\- Will ! Come in !

The smile of the man was too wide, his nonchalant posture too studied. Marcel Friedman was in the business of convincing people to donate him their money, after all, and the manufactured ease he bore was his living.

\- I know, I know, it was a little dramatic, he continued, throwing his hand in the air in a look of false guiltiness. You know how I am ! But I really wanted to surprise you. I like to give the best to my friends !

Will finally arrived in the centre of the room. He spared one look at the doctor, then turned back to Friedman.

\- There ! The flicker of rage in your eyes ! I knew I had seen right ! the man shouted.

\- You think tying up my husband is the perfect gift for me ? I'm afraid, I can do that pretty often myself.

Will's tone was polite, pleasing, even charming, but his eyes had yet to smile. The other really didn't seem to care, for he smiled brightly enough for two.

\- Oh, but this is not any tied up husband ! It's a present !

\- Again, Marcel, I'm not refusing your gift, I'm flattered by the troubles you no doubt went through, honestly, I'm just wondering why I must walk in the night to an unlicensed warehouse to have him when he's in my bed most nights.

A sadistic little light gleamed in Friedman's eyes.

\- Because this is an abandoned warehouse, my good friend, he said in a low voice.

He took a foldable knife from his breast pocket and offered it to Will.

\- Whatever happens here cannot be traced to anyone... ever, he said so low it was almost a whisper.

Will took the knife and opened it. It was long, sturdy. He flickered his thumb on the blade. Extremely sharp. One movement and it would tear clothes and skin like butter. He looked back at Hannibal. The doctor looked, as he so rarely did, dishevelled, hair falling in front of his eyes; His suit was torn off as if it had been in a terrible fight, and his tie had disappeared. His horrible shirt was opened low on his neck and chest, where Will could spot a bruise darkening on his collarbone. But his expression was not of fear, nor rage, nor even annoyed. He just watched Will in the eyes, an air of polite interest on his face, as if he was still in his office, years ago, before the run and the new life. As if all this was still an experiment on Will psyche. As if he wasn't done yet to re-wire his brain to suit his own need. Will wanted to plunge his hand into his exposed neck and tear trachea and artery out, let them gouge out and stain his terrible suit in crimson, just to see something, anything, happen on his face.

Marcel inched closer to Will, behind him, and placed his hands on Will's shoulders. He leaned in to whisper in his ear:

\- Come on, Will... (the name on his tongue rolled like honey, sickly sweet.) Why don't you repeat what you said to me when you paid me a visit on my villa, when we savoured a delicious liquor ?

Will swallowed. He kept his eyes on Hannibal's pupils as he answered.

\- I said I still heard his voice in my head at every second of the night and day. I said it pushed me to do things, horrible things that I would never have done before meeting him. (A rage was starting to sip out of his words, slowly, crescendo.) I said he changed me, and tricked me, and kidnapped me, and modified my brain to suit his every need. I said... (Hannibal pupils were dilating, and Will could only spit more venom into his words.) ...that I hated him. That I wanted him to feel the fire under his skin. I want to burn, and dismember, and tear him inside out, and wipe that faked politeness out of his face.

His knuckles whitened around the knife as he walked closer, almost without realising. His face was deformed by anger

\- I want to cut open his thoracic cage myself, break his bones with my bare hand, and use them to pin his skin open. I want to fill his lung with peat and set them on fire, and dance on the sick smoke that exit his mouth. I want to destroy him as a tapestry is undone, threat by threat, slowly, viciously, separating every organ and every blood vessel from his body until they all lay in front of me, and I feel them give out under the sole of my shoe.

Suddenly he grabbed Hannibal hair and yanked them backward, eyes still on his while he towered over him, dangerously close.

\- I want to tear his heart out of his chest and make him watch as I eat it raw.

Hannibal's eyes were entirely black under him. He licked his lips. Will followed the movement of the tongue, then the bob of the Adam's apple as the man swallowed. He released Hannibal as quickly as he had jumped on him, and walked a few steps back.

\- I said I wanted to cut every artery on his body, neck, legs, arm, heart, watch as the scarlet blood rushes out of him as if to escape the monster that he is... (his voice soften, a gleam of fondness appearing on his eyes) ...and that I want to sip on it like the finest wine on this earth.

He straightened his back. He let out a long breath, and loosened a little the grip on the knife. He turned to Friedman, who had moved a bit away, even his usual mask of pleasantness leaking out the worry underneath.

\- Why would you offer me this, Marcel ? Will asked, pleasant tone back up. Surely even you cannot gain something from my simple vengeance.

\- I... (Marcel cleared his throat, and his smile went back up.) I don't think you said all that at my house, dear.

\- It was from memory.

\- But I must admit, it confirms my thoughts ! he announced before clapping his hands. Will, my boy, I just want to please you ! And once your captor has disappeared, I can take the necessary step so his fortune comes into your hands and... You know, I take care of your back, you take care of mine, right ?

Will scratched his chin. His eyes felt on Hannibal again, his uncombed hairs, his exposed chest. It was a unique occasion. Friedman was of the worst subspecies of humans, but here, he might have something. If he wanted to kill Hannibal, nothing would be as good as now. Without tie, without his suit as armour... he turned to Marcel again, and handed him back the knife. The man looked at it disapprovingly, and Will could see the sparkles of confusion underneath the saddened mask.

\- Come on, Will, don't do this ! he exalted.

\- I don't need it. I have my own.

He kneeled and took his fisherman blade out of his boot. He had sharpened it just before coming. If he was going to do this, it was to be with his own tools.

Friedman opened wide eyes, then literally jumped excitingly:

\- Yes! Yes I knew you were with me on this one, my friend ! Oh, how pleased I am ! My two guards at the entrance should have taken it away from you, but I just can't bring myself to be mad right now !

\- I'm persuasive, Will offered briefly.

He positioned himself just in front of Hannibal. Peering into his eyes, he wasn't sure to even detect fear. He passed his knife from one hand to the other. The throat, it will be. Not a simple puncture, no, he will do a slice, swift and profound, sure to section the artery. The blood would rush out, first in bursts, then in an unstoppable flow, covering the two other men. A slow death, a messy one. Maybe too slow. He would need to open his torso too, let the entrails fall on the floor life pink, fleshy agonizing snakes. It would be thematic.

Marcel Friedman positioned himself next to Will, on his right, his head turning from side to side to watch the two men alternatively. Biting his lips, hands on his back, he was obviously exited and having a great time. Will raised his knife in a hand that wasn't trembling. He kept his eyes straight on Hannibal when his blade cut the air. An explosion of red, and Friedman throat opened without resistance. Not even a glint of surprise passed into the doctor's eyes as his face began to receive splatter of crimson blood, but his lips curved into a smile while Will towered over him, dark eyes and unreadable expression getting a red tint from the droplets falling on him. Sparkling under the light, the blood looked like a spilled bag of rubies, who stained every surface they landed on.

\- Will, Hannibal murmured with such adoration that the interested dared a smile.

Will's blade moved again, and Friedman's guts spilt out of him and flooded downward, viscera covering the floor in red. Will could see himself through Hannibal's eyes, an obsidian silhouette over him, light and scarlet detonation around his head. A being of fear and power. He could see it in Hannibal's complete devotion, the imperceptible tremble of his lips, his dilated pupils that were nothing more than dark abyss right now.

Will leaned toward him. His hand cup Hannibal's face, tracing the side of the bruise on his cheekbone with his thumb, spreading red on his face. He let his finger travel to the lips, painting them, fascinated, until the tongue flickered out and licked it. One second, one suspended second, nothing moved. Then Will crashed on Hannibal and smashed their mouths together, licking, violent, a parody deformation of a kiss that was pure passion. He pulled the hair, tore the shirt, sat on him and touched his bruised body without breaking the kiss, knife cluttering as it hit the ground. Hannibal was trembling, responding as much as he could, hands hopelessly battling against his restrains. His hips buckled under Will, growing more impatient as the erratic roaming of the hand intensified. Will didn't seem to care, licking the blood on his neck and biting as his hands scratched the back of the man under him. Hannibal couldn't help but let out a moan that Will licked off him, clean from his mouth. With no regards for buttons, he tore open Hannibal's pants, and grabbed his erection with a hand still coated in blood. Hannibal buckled, wailed and moaned, straining against the ropes that hold him in place. Will's hand set a quick pace, frantic and rough, and the whines out of Hannibal's mouth seemed to only make him more frenetic.

\- Will... please...

Hannibal begged, eyes shut close and face to the heavens. His hairs were flying, his face was maculated with blood and tears... Will took in this vision for a few moments, then came down from him, leaving him suddenly cold and frictionless. Hannibal exhaled deeply as if he had forgotten to breath. His eyes managed to focus on Will's silhouette kneeling near the gushing body, and the bright glimmer as he picked up his blade. The silhouette got blurry, shadow seeping out of it and growing upward like ink on a paper... like branches... like antlers... Will was towering over him again, imposing, in control, his edges red and trembling. Hannibal had never been more in love.

Will cut the ropes quickly, expertly, and as soon as he let him free Hannibal was on him, making them fall, making them roll in the blood pool still expanding. Hands and teeth were on him, pushing, grabbing, tearing the flannel shirt open and covering both their body in more of the crimson fluid that they already were. Will managed to land on top of Hannibal, helped by the fact that the doctor's knees were still caught in his half-fallen pant; Pinning him down, he promptly took Hannibal's dick in his hand, hard, rough, and Hannibal's muscles melted as a moan escaped his mouth. The doctor grasped the dark curls too tight to be gentle, making Will growl and snap his teeth. He grabbed Hannibal's legs and pushed them, bending Hannibal in two, exposing his ass that he immediately pushed his into. The blood and the precome eased his access as he worked the muscles fast and precise, his fingers knowing their way. In moments Will knew he had found the prostate as Hannibal arched, his grip tightening again. Will bit his leg, his torso, his neck; He pressed, pushed, rubbed, ignored the trembling and the begging as he worked him open just enough to be sure not to cause damage. With only one hand, he got his own dick out, painfully hard since the moment he had laid his eyes on his husband tied and ruffled. One, two strokes, and he entered the rim of muscle in a swift motion. Hannibal screamed, and moaned, and it got only louder when Will started his thrusts. Fast, messy, Will snarled as he pushed into Hannibal, angling himself so he hit the prostate at each hard shove; Hannibal's moans and cries echoed back to them in an obscene and surreal way, their hands left red imprints on everything they touched. Hannibal's throat was exposed, and with the shadows Will could imagine it was from it that the blood was coming. He thrust fast, and hard, and again and again; Hannibal's body was decorated of blood streaks like war paints, everywhere, his reddened dick bouncing at every move into Will's hand. Will imposed a pace too quick, too cruel, yet Hannibal's moans were still asking Will to be more rapid. The coarse surface of the floor, the warmth of the blood, both men hurt and wanted more, more, more... Hannibal screamed Will's name in a deafening explosion as he came, thick ropes of white tainting the crimson all around them; Will followed him, teeth like fangs as his grunt reverberated like a roar in the darkness all around them. He let his orgasm fly into him, overcome him, he trembled and finally fell unto Hannibal whose breath was terribly uneven and shaky.

They laid like this on the ground for a few moments, the silence only disturbed by their deep breath and the blood still gushing out of the long dead Friedman. Will closed his eyes, listening to Hannibal's heartbeat through his intact thoracic cage. How glad he was that Hannibal was alive. Out in the distance, some car sped by.

Will finally exited from Hannibal, noticing his come dripping out of him, and put his dick back into his pants. Back on his knees, he exhaled, passed his hands on his face, ruffled his own hair to get the sticky blood out, then offered his hand to Hannibal who was still lying on the floor. Hannibal accepted it with a wicked smile and they both put themselves up, buttoning pants and shirts were buttons were still present. Will picked his knife back from the floor and wiped it on his sleeve, before tucking it back into his boot.

\- You're are parked just outside, I presume ? Hannibal asked, wiping some blood from his face with the back of his hand.

\- You presume right, Will answered, letting his red-soaked jeans fall over his booth to concise his weapon. Water jerrican and two sets of clothes on the back. I figured they might come useful. Can you walk?

\- Yeah, though I maybe not alone.

Will extended an arm so Hannibal could put his weight on him, and as he suspected, Hannibal limped with him toward the door. As he opened it for his husband, Will turned to look at the ghastly sight behind them. Blood, viscera and come shined under the single light that the deceased Marcel Friedman had brought with him. He noted the nod of his husband, pointing at something in the wall. He opened the old metallic case with ease and pushed the button inside, and after a few seconds the artificial rain began to pour from the pipes, slowly flooding the warehouse and taking the evidence down the drains. Hannibal finally exited and Will followed him, closing the door behind him.

The fresh air of the night was a godsent for their heated skin. They walked over the corpses of the two security guys and toward their car which, as Will said, was parked just outside. They washed their face, their hair, arms and legs and everything that had been bled over, which was to say, almost their entire bodies. A proper shower would be in order, but for now, it would be sufficient if any passer-by or cop were to stop them on their way back. Clean clothes on, Will took the jerrican and poured it over their bloody footprints, washing away their last trace.

\- Shall we? he proposed, turning to Hannibal.

\- With pleasure, my dear. I'll let you drive.

Will opened the passenger door for Hannibal and closed it once the doctor was installed, then turned around the car and climbed inside himself. Hannibal was trying to put a washing clothe under him, probably out of fear of the blood staining the car. Good move. He closed his seatbelt and Will did the same, then looked at himself in the mirror. God, he looked awful. Blood still clung his hair together like grease.

\- I had tested him, Will informed. His blood. Just in case it came down to it.

\- I knew you would have. I have absolute fate in you.

Will paused, and looked at Hannibal as the man was trying to brush back his hair.

\- You're still turned on when I talk about killing you, even after all these years? he asked in the same tone he would have used to ask if they needed to go buy some bread.

Hannibal had the faintest blush and tried to repress a smile.

\- It does always produce a certain... interest in me, yes.

Will looked at him a long time, at the imperceptible change of colours of his cheeks.

\- That's fucked up, he finally said, with his first real smile of the night.

\- You don't seem to be complaining, Hannibal noted.

\- Indeed, I'm not.

And with the roar of the engine and smiles on their lips, they parked out of the warehouse toward the night city.


End file.
